‘Man overboard!’
Danae’s head snapped around. The soldiers had abandoned their benches and clustered to the port side of the ship. She ran to the rail and leant over. The water churned, white froth stained crimson.
‘He just jumped!’ one of the soldiers called from the mid-deck. ‘He …’ the man’s face fell slack and slowly he turned towards the waves. ‘Can you hear that?’
‘Get back from the side!’
Danae spun round as Odysseus slammed his hands over his ears and shouted, ‘Block your ears! Tie yourselves to the ship!’
Her hands began to rise to her head, then she paused. Part of her was screaming to bind herself to the benches like the men were now doing. But with each breath her limbs filled with an eerie calm. She lowered her arms and gazed over the rail, watching the marbled waves crest against the hull. The tune filling her ears was so beautiful, even more harmonious than one of Orpheus’ songs. It must be a melody sung by the nymphs of the sea. Tears blossomed in her eyes and tumbled down her cheeks. She had thought they too might be fiction after she learnt the truth about the gods, but this singing was proof of their existence.
She gasped as silvery bodies came into focus swimming beneath the waves. Their flowing hair streamed out behind them in ribbons of raven, gold and copper, and shimmering rainbow fins protruded from their backs like wings.
Danae reached down, the wooden rail digging into her chest as she stretched her hand towards the waves. A sudden clarity burned through her. If she followed the nymphs,all would be well. There would be no more pain. The ache of all she had seen and all the agony to come would wash away. There was no space for anything but peace beneath the water, the waves would protect her from the world, and the sea nymphs’ song would fill every part of her with joy.
Desire burned through her, so hot and scalding only the sea could quench it.
A hand reached out of the waves to meet her fingers. Their tips touched, and she was shocked at how cold they were. Then a face followed. A face that had looked so beautiful beneath the water, now twisted and bestial. And out of a mouth full of blood-flecked teeth, that sweet, harmonious sound grated into a shriek.
Suddenly, she was yanked back from the water and slammed into the deck. Odysseus sat on top of her, pinning her arms and legs. Two pieces of sail rag were stuffed into his ears. Even after the horror of what she’d seen in the water, Danae’s mind began to twist. She recalled not a terrible face, but a beautiful one, a woman reaching to her, soft-cheeked and lovely, longing for her embrace.
‘Please,’ she gasped, ‘let me go to her.’
Odysseus would not release her, and Danae delved within, calling her life-threads in order to repel the king. As though sensing what she was about to do, Odysseus shouted, ‘This is for your own good!’ and delivered a blow to Danae’s temple that knocked her unconscious.
Danae came to with a vicious throbbing across the left side of her skull. She lay propped against the side of the prow deck, the sun prising itself between her heavy lids. She blinked, and pain shot through her left eye. It wouldn’t open all the way. Tentatively, she prodded the swollen skin. If it felt this bad, gods know how it looked.
‘Welcome back.’
She was afforded a brief respite from the sun’s glare as a pair of scarred, muscular legs planted themselves in front of her.
Wincing, she squinted up at Atalanta. ‘What were those …’
‘Sirens. They lure sailors to their deaths.’
Danae’s heart lurched. She’d heard tales of the perilous siren song from merchants and fishermen back on Naxos.
‘Telamon, Hylas?’
‘They’re fine.’ Atalanta lowered herself down beside Danae. ‘Most of the crew managed to tie themselves to a bench or the mast before the song took hold.’ The warrior glanced at her. ‘Not all succumbed as quickly as you. Although, two more of those Ithacan soldiers jumped overboard. Telamon and Hylas have had to take their place on the benches.’
The wind had lulled, and the ship now sliced through the waves on the power of the men’s limbs.
Three lives lost. Danae wondered how many more of these soldiers would die once they reached Troy.
Her eyes flicked to Odysseus and the navigator conversing on the stern deck, then travelled to where Hylas and Telamon now shared a rowing bench. A surge of warm familiarity swelled through her. For a moment she allowed herself to imagine they were back on theArgo, one united crew, heading towards Colchis. Back then the prophecy had felt like a mountain resting on her shoulders. Now she longed for that simpler time, before she’d learned that gaining Titan powers meant she was doomed to watch those she loved grow old and perish while she remained fixed in time, before her belief in the afterlife had been shattered, before the Underworld had beaten her spirit beyond recognition.
‘Odysseus didn’t have to knock me out.’
‘Yes, he did.’ The warrior flicked her braids over her shoulder. ‘Otherwise you’d have thrown him off with your powers and dived into the arms of that siren.’
The colour in Danae’s cheeks ripened. They sat in silence for a moment, the waves raking against the ship.
‘It suits you,’ said Atalanta.
Danae arched an eyebrow. ‘The black eye?’
‘The hair.’ The warrior paused. ‘I’ve always liked it short.’
